


Method Act

by Anonymous



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Evisceration, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Identity Porn, Is it fake or real? Author has an opinion on this but you decide, Murder, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After weeks of living on this nightmarish version of her once-beloved ship, Yellow is fairly sure she knows who she can and cannot trust.As it turns out, she’s wrong.
Relationships: Brown & Yellow (Among Us), Brown/Purple (Among Us), Crewmate/Impostor (Among Us)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57
Collections: Anonymous





	Method Act

**Author's Note:**

> Pronouns used:  
> Yellow, Lime—she/her  
> Cyan, Brown, Orange—he/him  
> Purple, Blue—they/them  
> White, Black, Pink—unspecified  
> Impostor—it/its (part of POV character’s narration)

By the time Yellow skids into the reactor room behind Purple and Brown, Cyan is already holding his bare hand to the scanner on the starboard side of the room. Purple wastes no time running to the other scanner; Brown follows close behind them to provide support, and Yellow finds herself tugged along for the ride, clutching Brown’s upper arm tightly as both of them hover at Purple’s back. All of her surviving crewmates are in here in this room, and she can’t help but toss a look over her shoulder at the lone figure on the other side of the reactor.

When this all started—when someone found White’s dismembered corpse in Security—Cyan was the first to throw accusations. Lime got ejected out of the airlock for it, but the murders didn’t stop. The most recent time, when Black’s body was discovered, Cyan even tried to accuse  _Yellow_ of the crime for acting “suspicious”; it was only thanks to Purple’s interference that she didn’t end up tossed from the ship like yesterday’s trash. Now there are only four of them left and Cyan is still around; he’s crawled out from wherever he goes when the others aren’t with him, to “help” prevent a nuclear meltdown that he probably triggered in the first place. Yellow is almost certain that she’s looking right at the back of the thing that murdered all of her coworkers—well, almost all of them.  


Swallowing hard, she shuffles Brown closer to the shelter of Purple’s back. Although meek little Purple wouldn’t be her first choice for protection against an alien infiltrator, Brown cares about them, and she’s sure that Cyan won’t try anything if the three of them stand together like this. Too many witnesses around.

When the meltdown sirens finally shut off and the emergency lights stop flashing, Purple slips their glove back on with a relieved sigh and turns halfway around; the small, reassuring smile on their face is visible even through their visor.

And it happens in an instant.

An arm slips around Yellow’s slim waist and crushes her against someone’s chest. A handle is pressed into her hand. Something forces her arm into a brutal backhanded swing and a gruesome arc of blood and viscera splatters against both of their suits as Brown’s severed torso tumbles to the floor.

Purple lets go of her, leaves the murder weapon in her hands, and slams to their knees in front of the body just in time for Cyan to turn around.

Yellow doesn’t have time to think. “It—it was Purple!” She chokes out, eyes locked on Cyan’s. Her voice comes out half-strangled.

“Holy shit...!” a horrified voice whispers next to her, followed by the telltale hiss of a helmet opening. Yellow tears her gaze from her crewmate to glare down at Pur—the, the  _thing_ wearing Purple’s skin. Their— _its_ visor is up now, exposing a far-too-human face, and it stares with wide watery eyes down at Brown’s prone body like it wasn’t the one who just cut him in half. The impostor reaches towards Brown’s arm with a shaking hand. Just as it’s about to make contact, it flinches suddenly and looks up at her with pure, unadulterated _terror_. “Y-Yellow, what the _fuck_?”

“Yellow!” Cyan’s thunderous voice breaks in. Before Yellow can say anything, Cyan barges in between her and the impostor. He shoves her back so hard that she stumbles gracelessly into one of the machines on the wall. Then he plants himself there, hands on his hips, as if to protect the impostor from—from _her_? It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes  _sense._

“It wasn’t me!” She cries, “It was Purple, I swear!” She raises her hands instinctively to placate the furious astronaut in front of her, and only realizes her mistake when the movement causes blue light to glimmer across the blade she’s still holding.

It’s a cleaver: a big, bloody meat cleaver that must have been knicked from the cafeteria. Her gaze darts between the knife and Cyan with growing horror. She can see his expression darkening even through his visor.

“I knew it,” he says acidly. “It was _you_ all along.” Behind him, the thing masquerading as Purple clutches Brown’s gloved hand to its chest and hiccups like it’s crying, like it’s capable of any kind of emotion at all. The sound makes her sick to her stomach.

“No,” she tries, but Cyan is already walking forward and twisting her arms behind her back, sending the knife clattering to the floor. The sound frightens Purple, who tears their— _ its _ gaze from the corpse and finally seems to start paying attention to the drama unfolding in front of it. Its face is splotchy from hyperventilation; there are even tear tracks running down its cheeks. The Impostor is a picture-perfect imitation of human misery, and if not for the flash of cold, hard _n_ _othingness_ she catches in its eyes she might even believe it.

Yellow suddenly remembers Purple’s reluctance in testifying against Lime, like they knew she was behaving suspiciously but didn’t want to believe she would murder someone. Purple sticking up for Blue right before they were thrown from the airlock, saying, “we were alone together before and they never hurt me.” She remembers how Purple had to be convinced, once, to vote against Orange when he was caught standing over Pink’s decapitated corpse. Timid, gullible, _trustworthy_ Purple, always trying to keep people alive, always willing to see the best in even their most suspicious crewmates.  


And it was all just a carefully cultivated mask. No fucking wonder none of them saw it coming.

“Come on, Purple,” Cyan snaps, and the impostor startles to its feet with a soft “oh”. There’s a convincing play of emotions on its imitation face—a rapid-fire reel of micro expressions that say _grief, betrayal, fury,_ and finally _resolve_ —before it flicks down its visor with a click and locks its hands around Yellow’s upper arm. She jerks away from its grip angrily, but its shaky-looking hold belies iron-like strength. 

Together, her last living ally and the monster responsible for this waking nightmare drag her kicking and screaming to the airlock. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- I like to think the impostors are from an alien species of shapeshifters who can perfectly mimic anything they’ve seen before. So imagine, if you will, impostor trainees binge-watching human soap operas as training before they get deployed to sabotage missions. That is all  
> so this is just a quick one-off based loosely on my own first run as an impostor. Not sure I’m totally happy with it, but. Shrugs.


End file.
